


Sinful.

by orphan_account



Category: Danganronpa
Genre: Biting, F/F, Incest, Masochism, Sister Incest, Unhealthy Obsessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-14 13:10:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16493189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The collar around your throat, the leash is tugging and you have been ordered to keep up such an unhealthily obsession to fuel despair on both sides, the moon and sun.Ikusaba coughs, able to believe and follow the order, the years go by and it’s become worse and worse. Call her Enoshima’s number one fan at this point, she can’t stop, no one has even tried to help her because they say the soldier is ‘gone’ with how much the physical, emotional, mental abuse has done.The soldier says that when the fashionista finally takes that collar of daily abuse from her neck, she won’t understand how to live without it.





	Sinful.

**Author's Note:**

> Song used for this work; ヒトツメの独白/‘one eye’s monologue’.  
> this story makes me, Paradichlorobenzene, feel as if I’m commiting sin.

It’s the middle of the year.  
Actually. Not really. It’s the brief beginnings and there’s the white flakes that tell you it’s nearly the birthday of you, Mukuro Ikusaba, and your dreadful, the sister who has abused you since childhood and become your constant abuser, yet, you love her because she taught you, trained you to be that way; the famous, beloved, cherished, Junko Enoshima. Sometimes, you wonder why you love her and the memories always hit you; today is another day like the rest.  
  
Manicured talon like nails painted crimson red run down the right freckled cheek of Ikusaba, who merely watches Enoshima map out the build of her toy, her favorite plaything. The duo are on Mukuro’s bed, in the dorms of school, because everything is done and there is no need to do anything else; grades are good, the Soldier has no friends whilst the Fashionista does.  
“Muku-nee.” Her breath reeks of cherry blossoms in the spring, so sweet, so inviting. No one ever thinks that people like cherry blossoms will be similar to snakes, with their carnivore fangs bared and words utterly drenched in poison.  
  
Her pointer talon rests under the right eye, as if wanting to poke it from below; pop it out and make that infamous eyeball spaghetti dish. But does the strawberry blonde do so? No, because she’ll wait. And wait. Wait for her darling, stoic sister to break that mask of watchful gazes and overprotecfiveness, when that moment comes; despair shall ooze and flow all over. It would be a miracle. It is a dream.  
  
Steel eyes have not left her sister at all, she responds blandly; as if reading from a script someone has memorized over and over. “Yes, Junko-chan?”  
  
The younger twin giggles, finding her sister so funny. The air smells of blissful cherry blossoms and the damp forests, with a hint of smoke; the distinct smells that follow the trail of their respective bodies footsteps, wherever they may be. “You’re so disgusting that I’ve begun to love you. How despairful is that? Me, loving my horrid, twisted, hell... even wicked sister.” These words apply to Junko herself as Mukuro is none of these, surely. Right?  
  
The nails leave her face alone, only to examine the stone face, the gaze that brings nothing with it; glittering baby blue meeting steel. For others, it would be unusual to sit across from each other and stare, no movement or blinking. The lioness reaches for the wolf’s chin, scooting closer and pulling their faces together. The talons dig into her skin, Mukuro does not mind the pain or how strong Junko’s grip is; the world is still, and so are the dark gods.  
  
Ikusaba begins to speak, as if she’s nervous, which is she is, unable to show it. She begs. “Junko-Chan. Please. I beg of you. Don’t look at me with those.. eyes.” A soft huff and the nails dig in deeper, pain still does not nip away. Hands on her thighs, the usual uniform; vomit begins to arise. The latter laughs, it’s dark, deep and sounding as if a psychopath has just waltzed in and became another persona to the fashionista.  
  
“What happens if I do, Muku-nee-chan? Will you put my arms above my head and gut me like the big bad wolf Fenrir trained you to be? Or..” Junko’s gaze darkens, it seems as if she’ll be the first one to drool in this interaction; the conversation that no one will ever hear about, or learn about. Hypnotizing. Mukuro Ikusaba feels as if she’s in a trance, her breath slows and becomes barely audible in seconds.  
  
Mukuro’s senses kick in, she doesn’t want to hurt or damage Junko. But, unfortunately this situation makes something click in her mind, that horrid soldier mindset settles itself in. A low growl leaves Mukuro, as if her hands will rise and strike the wrists of Junko; a grip so hard marks will be left, it would be best if this were a different situation. Like every other day, hour, minute, second with Junko Enoshima; the monochrome world of Mukuro Ikusaba fills with color and the wolf huffs, the claws of the lioness scratch at her neck. Irritating.  
  
“I thought Muku-nee said she’d never hurt me.” Enoshima’s perfect face splits into that cat like grin, normal people don’t smile like that; Ikusaba grits her teeth and narrows her eyes, today definitely not like the others. It’s war, in a sense. The growl gets louder as the minutes go by, the lioness has her play toy in her grasp; the wolf’s hands shoot to the thin arms and oh is the grip tight. The fashionista seems excited as she does her best at trying to choke the soldier, who seems rather pissed off and fighting back, rage sparks in her body. With the struggle, her lungs no longer carry air due to all the movement and her breathing is ragged, the growls sounding painful. Her vision is beginning to darken. Is today the day that she’ll die by hands of her love? The one she always watched over and even in this moment she’s ‘looking out’...? The pressure on her windpipe hurts, just a little and she struggles even more.  
  
Enoshima Junko laughs once more, amused; she desires more. She wants the sister that she loves oh so very much, to feel despair, to hate her! That’s fuel. Being hated by the one who sticks with you no matter what, how joyous! Someone call for a celebration! Majestic, this despair. Biting her lip, after seeing her sister twitch and beginning to snarl; thrash around and moving her arms away with little to no ease, the fashionista sighs deeply.  
  
“Look at my precious, loyal Muku-nee! She’s been turned into a wolf, my very own toy.” Another round of laughter, then a simple reward. The right hand, littered with perfect skin and red talons; beckon the wolf over. Following the awful script and doing so, the fashionista lays on the bed while the soldier has propped herself above. Nails travel to the hips of the latter, exposing her neck after doing so; whining out, as if she’s a child. Switching from one thing to another, interests change like emotions. “Muku-nee-chaaaan... do you have any ounces of life left in your corpse body? Or did you waste them all, Eh?”  
  
Another game. Mukuro does not stray from the gaze of Junko, merely sitting up and shifting away a little; the younger sister sits up, calling out her beloved toy’s name to come over again. Perfect thighs are spread open, the move is suggestive but Ikusaba ignores it, crawling to her sister. The head of the soldier is dipped to get large whiffs of that cherry shampoo (the fashionista uses daily) from the neck of her sister, manicured nails holding her close. Erratic breathing from both sides, a round of snickering cuts through the air. This should be reversed, but the way that the latter keeps breathing heavily into her neck is making Enoshima excited, will Ikusaba finally snap today and give her the greatest despair a sister can give? The incest taboo seems good right now, the two sisters are lonely without another. Incest is gross, disgusting, but the fashionista doesn’t care; that’s one way of despair, loving your sister more than family love. The term ‘sisterly love’ has been exchanged between the two frequently, so, by that fact it would be okay, right? Ha! Who said Junko ever cared for Mukuro’s opinions in things? Like. No one ever!  
  
Silence makes its existence known, the only noise in the room being the breathing of the two and the fashionista keeps the soldier close; who moves her head downwards and begins attacking the strawberry blonde’s untouched neck, small bruises that no one will notice. By the element of surprise, Junko’s body twitches and jolts, a barely audible moan at the sensations. Nails dig into the back of the soldier, (the ripping and tearing of fabric because of the pressure) who’s probably begging for attention by doing this action, animalistic teeth sink into the skin, flesh of the lioness and leave deep marks. It appears that rage still flows through the corpse body of Mukuro Ikusaba due to how deep she’s sinking her teeth into the neck of Junko Enoshima, the latter feels as if she’s high in a sense as she tilts her head back; a sigh, happiness or desire, leaves her pretty lips decorated with lip gloss. The wolf ends her attack, back to breathing heavily onto the new marks.  
  
By the power of using the element of surprise, arousal has somehow set it’s way into being the sideline emotion in the feeling palette of Junko Enoshima. She feels something... wet drip onto her skin followed by worse uneven breathing from her sister, the mutterings of horrid love confessions. Ah, it was the monster that the fashionista carved out with her own hands into the soldier, to make that loyalty ‘for life’; there would have be an obsession, right? Making her own sister so in ‘love’, wanting to have attention from the younger sister daily, only listening to her and the other pros of someone having an obsession over you and you being totally okay with it! Which is good, right? The cons of obsession is horrid. The shrines, the begging, whimpering and whining for attention, let it be negative or positive; it’s attention no matter what. The obsession does make the loyalty better, though it was formed out of sugar covered words and ‘tender’ affections. Enoshima created the perfect monster, that obsessive side of Ikusaba that came out after enough games that were physical; hers and hers only! To make her sister only have interest in her, how disgusting and it starts up drama; a bodyguard being the grossest fan of the fashionista, that’ll make the blonde more popular. Popularity is not the objective in this situation.  
  
Feeling the beast of a woman leave, the weight is gone and it seems like she’s moved to being on the floor; frantic, like a trapped animal until the fashionista sits up and shifts to the edge of the bed; the side ledge actually and allows the bottoms of her heels touch the ground, she snaps her fingers. The lady caught in her obsessive state of mind turns her head and shuffles on her knees over; in a position to worship the latter, head tilted up and steel glittering with ‘love’ do not stray from the catlike gaze of baby blues. A hand beckons for the animal to come over, the soldier’s chin is set on the thighs of the fashionista who combs her talons through raven strands. Her favorite. Her second favorite besides Yasuke Matsuda, the other person who makes her feel ‘human’ due to ‘emotions’. This is her masterpiece, the work of art that will forever stick by her and state that every action is ‘good’ by despair’s standards. She exhales deeply, nails scrapping against the scalp of her beloved attack dog.  
  
“Muku-nee-chan.” She states airily, the animal perks up and responds, this conversation continues from long ago to ensure that obsession twists and turns to something even more unhealthy, she gains a tug; raven hair mixed with slender clean fingers and good god, the soldier has to hold back a moan. It’s not like pain by anyone is her supposed kink or turn on, masochism merely ruins in her blood; just like how toxic sadism runs in the fashionista. Two perfect sides of a mirror. Another tug, a moan leaves her chapped lips and her body shivers, gaining shaky breaths from the wolf; how nice it is, to be in control of someone’s pleasure. To tease them all you want and the latter begging for more, desire blossoming like deep blood red roses; a giggle leaves bubblegum pink lips.  
  
“Muku-chan. What do you think of me?” Tilting her head and waiting for her response, voice sickly sweet like rotten candy; her wicked tongue adds more into such a short statement and question. “If I like it, maybe I’ll let you kiss me.” That’s how you get them! Lure them with sweetness and attack them viciously, they never suspect such evil.  
  
With worshipful eyes that are still set upwards to stare at her god in a way, body heated and getting warmer by every passing second with her pale and too awfully thin body shaking from all the attention. “You... J-Junko-chan... have given me a reason to stay alive. Without you, I would have no purpose. If you were to ever disappear... I’d search for you and murder whoever got in my way.” At this mention of murdering anyone and everyone who dared get in her way in such a realistic fantasy, the steel eyes of Mukuro Ikusaba darken and her gaze becomes ferocious; truly an animal built to protect what it claims to be theirs. “You are my only one... no one at all... should try to even touch you. Do anything with you.” Her voice wants to scream ‘You’re mine! All mine, you only belong to me. Mine and no one else’s.’ Being so possessive and obsessive, it would surely drive someone mad, which is the result of this ‘monster’. To train your sister to think in such a way, hopelessly in love and worshipful, how... terrible. But no one even dares to help, to get rid of that infectious obsesssion of Ikusaba’s because they’re so scared of what those gloved hands could do to their bodies if they even tried to touch Enoshima. “You’re the only one who will ever... truly love me... that’s why you’ve stuck with me for so long, because you love me...” This must be right, her mind has believed it for so long, it must be the truth! She’s given a pat on the head, feeling her strands fall to their original place after a few seconds; she continues with her ramble.  
  
To be around her sister, love, obsession makes Ikusaba feel the pulse of life, to feel human around someone she loves and would do anything for. Somehow, she’s gifted with someone who’s rather abusive and animalstic with how she loves but that’s okay with the latter. It’s love and attention, so sickly sweet. They go well together. The term incest is rather... weird to Mukuro, who really doesn’t care as long as Junko doesn’t get hurt by it. Even if these horrid saccharine actions and feelings stop, the body of Ikusaba Mukuro will still yearn for Enoshima Junko. Why, living without the constant abuse and attention would be... a world that she’d gladly be dead in. A life with no Junko, how... unrealistic, who could ever live without seeing, hearing the name of her sister, who why how!? Why would anyone even think of living in a world without Junko Enoshima! No one at all. Right?  
  
Drowning in love, staring with no doubt in her words; obsession making her mind go anti clockwise and it’s as if she’s in a hazy of lust, desire for her sister. “You belong to me. My sister.” The younger sister chuckles, yet her actions of shoving the eldest sister’s face away from sitting on her thighs and laying flat on the bed; the latter scrambled on top and gazes down at her beloved, so tenderly. For them, being lonely and always together, it would be ‘reasonable’ to be in love; to do romantic things in private and absolutely lose it at times. Because sure as hell, Ikusaba loses it after some kissing and physical contact, becoming the obsessive wreck she’s been taught to be. For them both to lose it would end in bloodshed, or bloodplay in their situation. The wolf can’t handle it anymore, her body aches to feel the lioness’s own be against hers; god, she wants to be the only one marking her sister and seeing her expression through her orgasm. They’re acting like animals in heat, how stupid and gross, but why stop? There’s no need. With the soldier leaning down and chapped lips meet bubblegum pink, it starts out soft; the two now both laying down on the bed on their sides for a better grasp, plus, more comfortable. Moans begin to flood the room, quietly, hushed to not get in some sort of trouble or walked in on. This must be love, right? Submissiveness and dominance, sparkling, setting into the sexual haze.  
  
Affection from the heart. Pale, untouched legs tangle with a mirrored set; one with a longer skirt by a couple of inches. Panting comes from Mukuro, who can’t get enough of this contact, withering knowing that she probably won’t be able to get farther than this. Yet, it’s exciting and pleasure spikes up and down her spine; body twitching. Drool, saliva stains the covers as the insanity of the make out gets worse and worse. Warmth. All the contact, a finely manicured hand has somehow made it into the strands of raven hair and begin to pull. The moans get louder and god, Ikusaba’s body shivers in delight; Enoshima breaks away, out of breath, a giggle leaves her. Being the only one to make your sister feel like this... is cursed, in every sense, yet, wonderful. The wolf attacks the latter again, tongue exploring the insides of such a pretty mouth; hair tugging, biting and having both tongues clash together, more saliva, the motives of animals in heat. Arousal and lust go together hand in hand, another break. It’s just pants and soft moans, Mukuro huffs and tries to steady her breath while Junko does the same, finding herself wanting to feel those chapped lips that have the faint smell of vanilla on them. How... weird. Vanilla and bubblegum pink. She licks her lips, almost as if she could go for another round of pure kissing. Maybe even biting harshly on lips to draw rivers of blood and pain, maybe.  
  
Nothing else is said, just the top of Ikusaba being tossed off to the side; manicured nails feeling the toned body of the soldier as she withers, as if it’s meant to be, the soldier’s body arches and leans into the nails, the contact. Sinful, isn’t it? To love your sister more than sisterly, thoughts of sex and whatnot, overprotective and obsessive. Yet, the latter is possessive. The two are yin and yang, always needed each other. This is similar to paradise, wouldn’t one think? With heated glances and stares, the hands of Mukuro Ikusaba shaking whenever they even get close of Junko Enoshima, how cute. A wolf acting like a puppy to it’s master, rolling over and arching it’s back as every organ, every right is stripped away and there’s only a machine. The two share some words with another, on the bed; eldest straddling youngest.  
  
“You’re a horrible kisser, ya know? Such a virgin!” Laughter fills the room and the eldest adverts her gaze, seeming embarrassed and left hand rubbing her right arm; pale skin exposed with some marks, from current events of previous, no one will ever know. Being... nervous because of the thoughts of not having the power or mentality to be good enough is horrid in this situation, so she replies back. “Y...you could take my virginity, but you have done no progress to do that.” Ikusaba waits for her to get beat bloody for talking back in such a sense and way, with the tone of ‘I know it all’; it doesn’t happen, just a faked pout on those pink, plump lips of the fashionista. The air has gotten to her pale skin, the soldier shivers and is told to get down again; laying across from each other, an unreadable gaze set on Enoshima and confusion, sweat on Ikusaba.  
  
“Muku-nee.” Gloved right hand is set on one hip, so gentle, not wanting to hurt and harm. Come on, move it down and feel the wetness in fancy panties, drive your fingers in and pound— (roughly and painfully, no no, just kidding. Make it slow, hear the moans and mewls for you to go faster and bring that utopia high faster than light! Then maybe take your tongue and lick, probe, tease her all you want before she gets enough of it and slaps you, encouragement!)oops, seems as if some moans left the lips of Enoshima at just that quick fantasy, cheeks flushed and lips parted. The latter seems shocked with usually composed eyes that were cold and watchful, wide and a bit confused, scared. It was a miracle to feel at least three fingers slide across your clothes and down to where you wanted it so much, skin hovering over your wet heat. Whimpering suddenly and plump lips are bitten, picture perfect body withering. Words are about to leave her until she’s massaged, hips bucking and getting into gear with every motion; head tilted back and appearing to lose it. The eldest can only laugh, chuckle softly at the little ‘fuck yes’ that leave pink lips at the attention, yet, not giving in. It isn’t like their roles are switched, just the pace. Being the one to watch your ever prideful sister squirm and buck her hips to your fingers, how amazing. You mutter softly.  
  
“I love you.” Let it be obsessive or not, you just can’t get enough of your sister. You’re sick with love, wanting, desire, lust, all of it in one as you watch your sister rock herself to your massaging her core, slender gloved fingers tear the fancy, extremely wet undergarments off to the side and sliding in one finger. Just by this, a gasp and the musical chorus of the soldier’s name being repeated over and over enters the air and Ikusaba just can’t rid herself of this addictive moment. By the minutes, she adds another finger and watches her sister with utter delight. So happy to make Junko Enoshima come and work her towards that fabulous orgasmic post high. She makes you happier than any other person. Her moans sound like an angel’s song to your ears, low and short moans come from the soldier. Ah, how good it is to see Enoshima be so needy when Ikusaba slows her pace, slicking another gloved finger in and hoping that she’s reaching those delicious spots. The seconds tick by, hips rising and falling down, drool dribbles down a perfect chin. The legs of Ikusaba Mukuro move nervously, to make sure that her own lust doesn’t come forth. (So she can stop herself from being so animalistic. Her sister is so ‘pure’, it’s driving the eldest insane with every passing second with this obsessive mindset.)  
  
Enoshima comes, so quickly and with a shrill scream. Falling onto the bed with a loud ‘thump’ and exhausted, panting and trying to calm herself. At this point, the both don’t even care if someone walks in or asks about why there was screaming from the soldier’s dorm. Ikusaba slides her now covered fingers away from her sister, withdrawing them and gaining a slight whimper. She’s confused, but proceeds to lick each finger slowly to savor the taste of her beloved, ‘foolish’ obsession. Hers. They became one, so surely, they must be together! Sure, it’s fucked up but no one has ever said anything! The soldier’s hips twitch after she’s done licking her fingers clean, wiping them on the sheets and takes time to watch her sister recover from cumming, from letting everything tighten to let it all out. Love swells, obsession blossoms and Ikusaba sits up, fingers gently swiping across the sweat lines face of Enoshima. Her love, her reason for even breathing, the meaning of existing. Her favorite person, she hears her name faintly and lays back down in a few seconds; pulling her sister to her for a few millimeters and listening to her ragged breath as it becomes cleaner and cleaner.  
  
Ikusaba believes that Enoshima is truly hers. Her everything. Everything that she needs in life, marks and lipstick stains across her body that she really doesn’t mind, another pair of panties that had the leftovers of hours spent too much alone. Transformed into a monster of obsessiveness and possessiveness; the smell of the strawberry blonde hair makes your body ache to re-do the events from before all over again, you want her nails to dig themselves into your skin again and be treated like the horrible, gross, utterly disgusting masochist you are at heart. A moan leaves Mukuro’s lips. Love is something, truly. It makes you do things you would normally never think of doing until the moment is right. Ikusaba and Enoshima are twisted, sick, negativity surrounds them, yet they find ‘love’ in each other. What a nice.. hm... no idea how to word them. The soldier treats the recovering fashionista pleasantly, gloved fingers running over her model perfect body and just feeling the obsession get worse and worse, how worrisome. Definitely Ikusaba needs to get some photos and keep them until she’s ordered to burn them, but she chooses to cherish the moment of holding her sister close and tight. Their legs tangle together and they become attached, how lonely their souls must be to fall in love with family, family that has stayed with them for so long and haven’t strayed away.  
  
The lipstick stains can be explained later, as well the deep, bruising kisses on the neck of Enoshima will get an explanation later. Ikusaba hums and feels the strawberry blonde relax; her body twitches a bit. Ah, what time was it? The eldest doesn’t care, enjoying the moment and holding the youngest in her arms. Before she even realizes it, sleep catches on.  
  
_sisterfucker. ___

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed and leave kudos if you wish.


End file.
